


Four Floors Down

by Tenebralunae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, One Shot, Unhappy Ending, Wartime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebralunae/pseuds/Tenebralunae
Summary: He finally reached the main stairwell at the center of the construction; it was wide, spiraling, leading to floors above and below. Somehow, he knew he had to go down, where it was darker and colder.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Four Floors Down

“The prison was secured.”

This was when Obi-Wan felt the first stirrings of unease. There was just something off in Cody’s tone, discernable even over the commlink. A pause before the clone commander added:

“Sir, it’s bad.”

Obi-Wan suspected as much. The Force still felt empty, and with the prison secured… He let go of that thought. There was an explanation, he was sure. The troops were probably still sweeping the complex, still freeing the prisoners.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Commander.”

The attack was two-pronged. One part of the 212th Battalion surrounded and secured the prison. The other, larger group, led by Obi-Wan himself, circled around and stuck at the main bulk of the droid army from the flank, in order to cut them off from the target and then push them toward the nearby cliffs. Obi-Wan would much prefer to lead the first group, but the sheer firepower of Jedi was necessary to thin the ranks of Seppie droids.

The maneuver was risky and hastily executed, but it paid off. Yet Obi-Wan didn’t feel the satisfaction of job well-done, which usually accompanied a successful plan. The prison was his main objective, and something… he instinctively shied away from the thought, but then forced himself to complete it: something was wrong.

He had a bad feeling about this.

The unease grew as the gates of prison came into view. A patrol was posted outside, but there was nobody else. If there were prisoners, they would have to be evacuated, loaded onto medical transport, tended to. Was this a trick? Did Separatists move them already, and left the army to serve as a decoy?

If that were the case, Cody would have told him outright.

The man himself emerged just as Obi-Wan neared the gates. Seeing his general, the clone stood at attention—conveniently in the middle of the entrance, obstructing Obi-Wan’s path inside.

“Sir,” he saluted rigidly, and the sinking feeling in Obi-Wan’s stomach grew. His Commander was more conscious of protocol than some, but he would adhere to it even more religiously if there were bad news to deliver.

“Report, Commander.”

“We secured prison with minimal resistance. Only the skeleton crew was manning it. We’re still sweeping the bottom floors, but we expect to find more of the same.” The clone hesitated, and Obi-Wan braced himself for the ‘but’ that was obviously coming. “Sir, the prisoners are dead.”

Obi-Wan was not ready for this.

“What?” he said out loud, while thinking, no, that’s impossible, I would have known—

“Sir, they were all executed yesterday, before we even landed on the surface.”

That—that couldn’t be right. If the Separatists were massacring three hundred captives, he would have felt it, even from the orbit. Wouldn’t he?

_Dark Side clouds everything…_

Cody was gathering himself to say more, but Obi-Wan has heard enough. He quickly strode into the building.

The explanation for his lack of awareness became apparent instantly.

They thought Seppies put Force inhibitors on their prisoners, but the explanation was much simpler. The prison itself was a Force inhibitor. Obi-Wan’s senses dulled the moment he stepped in the door, and his connection to Force thinned the further he progressed into the building. No wonder he didn’t have an inkling what was happening.

The Force _screamed_ when a life was torn from it unexpectedly, and you can’t scream in a void.

He checked the cells as he went along, even though the result was always the same. An unmoving body inside. The locations of the victims told a horrifying story: the first few were lying in their cots, almost as if sleeping peacefully. Then, a few crumpled near entrances to their cells. After that, almost all could be found at the back, some curled up, some sprawled out, all of them cold and lifeless.

The guards started from the main entrance, going cell by cell. It was at night. The first victims were killed in their sleep. The sound of blaster fire woke the rest of the block and the prisoners attempted to see what was happening. Then, they tried to hide.

Only there was nowhere to run.

Obi-Wan’s breath quickened along with his steps. He finally reached the main stairwell at the center of the construction; it was wide, spiraling, leading to floors above and below. Somehow, he knew he had to go down, where it was darker and colder. With every step he could feel this darkness and coldness taking root inside him, in the empty places usually filled by the warmth of the Force.

Four floors and he reached the basement. It was damp, smelly and so Force-null that it felt like the weight of the whole fortress was bearing down on him to squeeze out his breath. The clone troopers didn’t yet search this level – there was no mark on the corridor wall – so he held his lightsaber at ready, even though ominous, unnatural silence hung over the whole area.

Here, most of the cells were empty, but it made the first corpse he came across all the more devastating: emaciated, still shackled, Evarnara Kathagra, the Jedi general declared KIA two weeks ago, was lying in pool of green blood.

Heart in his throat, Obi-Wan found the next body another two cells down. It was a face he recognized from the briefing: Governor Ti’all, Republic-leaning deposed leader of the system.

It felt like his heart was trying to shake his ribcage apart with every beat, but he didn’t think about it, didn’t pause in order to get himself under control. If he stopped, he wasn’t sure he would have the strength to start again. And he needed to go on. He needed to know.

He needed to see.

When he found him, he realized: like an utter fool, he was deluding himself all along.

He was hoping to find him miraculously spared.

He was hoping to find him standing there, with a quip about Obi-Wan’s tardiness forcing him to take matters into his own hands.

He was hoping to find the cell empty, because that would mean there was still a chance.

Hope was what held him up until this point. When it was torn away, he collapsed against the doorway, lightheaded and unsteady, because past his grief, there was no room to draw breath.

“Force, no,” he moaned, and had to brace one hand on the floor as black spots swam across his vision. “Anakin…”

A part of him was chanting, _it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s trick, Anakin—_

_Anakin can’t be—he can’t be dead…_

_But he is_ , the voice of reason whispered. _You knew it could happen. You need to accept it and release your grief into the Force._

Only there was no Force here. Even if there was, would it be worse? Would he be able to touch it, with the echo of Anakin’s death hanging in it like a poisonous fume?

Anakin was dead.

Obi-Wan had to cover his mouth with a hand, to muffle the pitiful, broken sound fighting its way out.

Anakin was dead—dead—deaddeaddeaddead—

In retrospect, he must’ve blacked out for a second; when he knocked his head on the wall, the sudden sharp pain brought the world back into focus. Obi-Wan stared incomprehensibly at the wall for a moment—there was a red spot there, and soon enough a trickle of blood was dripping across his eye. He wiped it hastily. It was smudged on his white vambrace, diluted with sweat and tears.

A sort of numbness set around him. The Force should be screaming with pain and grief, he reflected distantly, but of course it wouldn’t; there was no Force there. It was very quiet. Anakin hated the quiet—Obi-Wan needed to get him out of here.

Distantly, he realized there was something not quite right about this chain of thought, but he didn’t bother to examine the idea closely. He needed to move, and the only way he could do anything right now was by not thinking too much about what he was actually doing.

He gathered himself, stood up and looked.

He needed to cut the shackled which held Anakin up by his wrists, so he ignited his lightsaber and proceeded into the cell. The blue light threw stark shadows, but as he came closer, he realized the dark stain under Anakin’s throat was blood. He didn’t notice it, earlier. Anakin’s head was tipped forward, unruly hair hanging free, and Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to push it back to look at him, not yet. The realization the guards didn’t just shoot him—which would be quick, if not painless—but hung him upright by hands, cut his throat and left to bleed out threatened to undo Obi-Wan again.

Carefully, he cut Anakin down and slowly lowered his body, cradling his head in order to avoid displaying the horrifying wound.

For a while, Obi-Wan just sat there, pushing back down one by one every thought that tried to rise to his awareness. Anakin’s dark clothing hid the bloodstains, and he was still wearing his cloak, which covered the rest of evidence. Obi-Wan found himself unable to do anything about the tears trickling down his cheeks, but if he didn’t think, he could almost pretend Anakin was just sleeping peacefully in his arms.

The sound of footfalls roused him from the stupor. The clones. Right, they were sweeping the whole complex. Obi-Wan expected them to proceed into the corridor, maybe call out to him, but when the soldiers reached the bottom of the stairwell, the sound ceased. They were waiting. For what?

Oh.

No doubt Cody was there. Probably Rex too. They weren’t stupid. They knew what it meant when Obi-Wan headed down there and didn’t come back and didn’t call for med evac.

They stood guard, giving him as much time alone as they could.

Time he couldn’t afford to waste. Yes, they pushed the droid army back, but he couldn’t rule out that Separatist reinforcements weren’t on the way.

Obi-Wan forced himself to delicately lay down Anakin and shrugged out of his own cloak, intending to wrap it around his apprentice. He knelt, and, for the first time since three days ago, he had unobstructed view of Anakin’s face.

Grief grabbed Obi-Wan by the throat with iron-clad grip. Anakin’s eyes were closed, which was a small mercy. He looked like he was sleeping. Obi-Wan’s hands shook so badly he dropped the cloak, and then he had to cover his mouth to stifle the sob rising from his chest.

Only when the tears filling his vision forced him to blink Obi-Wan was able to move again and cover Anakin’s face with the material.

Doing it felt like admitting defeat.

*

That night, Obi-Wan laid in darkness, unable to sleep or meditate. He was hovering in a strange state of horrible numbness, as if contemplating into what pit of bleak emotion to fall. There was anger, at the Council (they assigned them to the mission), at the Senators (they decided taking back the planet was necessary), at the Separatists (they slit his throat, it was deliberate and cruel and he wanted to tear them _limb_ from _limb_ ), at himself (he was too late, always too late, he should have been the one to—). The call of denial was weaker, because Obi-Wan was never prone to deluding himself, but it tempted him with a small reprieve nonetheless.

Worst of all, was the overwhelming self-pity, and on some level, it made him hate himself all the more. Anakin was—he was dead, and here Obi-Wan was, thinking how he didn’t deserve it, how unfair it was to _him_.

_It should have been me in his place._

That thought felt true and certain like none of the others. Obi-Wan grabbed at it, cradled it close, stoked the flicker of the idea into an inferno.

They planned the attack together, they were bantering like usual, Anakin was teasing him how 212th was of the Sky Corps, this meant Anakin’s battalion was the one that ought to make the planetfall first, _it was in the name, Master_ —

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and acquiesced with a cutting quip. Now, he tried to recall what it was, but he couldn’t.

Such a small thing.

Such a miniscule, meaningless exchange.

He carelessly sent Anakin to his death and no doubt felt too smug about his wittiness at the time to pay attention to any warning susurrus in the Force. He couldn’t even remember what he said.

Obi-Wan laid in the darkness, unmoving, stewing in his self-loathing. Tears leaking steadily from his eyes were soaking his thin, military-issue pillow, but he didn’t move. There was no reason to.

Physically, he left the Force-null behind prison many hours ago, but the Galaxy felt still and empty. Obi-Wan knew that in some ways, he would never escape the place.

*

This time, as the pyre blazed, there was no small star demanding his attention by his side, drawing him away from the gaping maw of grief with soft question, begging for a reassurance, giving him another purpose.

Outwardly, he was impassive, both in appearance and in the Force. Others around him would glance at him with genuine compassion in their eyes. They also grieved, but Obi-Wan was certain no one was drawing a thin veneer of quiet sadness across a well of howling despair like he was.

It was a cold comfort, to find Anakin’s funeral so well attended. Obi-Wan knew his young friend, even after all these years, still sometimes felt like an outsider in the Order. Yet here were their peers and superiors, united in quiet sorrow.

And others, too. Among them Chancellor Palpatine, his face grave, attending both in official capacity and as personal friend of Anakin. Senator Amidala was standing directly across Obi-Wan, on the other side of the pyre. He was glad he couldn’t see her face behind the flames. He didn’t want to know if he would find accusation in Padme’s gaze when their eyes met.

As the ceremony ended, he could see Chancellor turn in his direction. Obi-Wan turned away and slipped out before anybody could approach. He was in no mood for conversation, or empty platitudes. No doubt Palpatine felt obliged to offer some, despite the fact Obi-Wan was quite certain the man never liked him personally. He’d spare the old politician discomfort of going through the motions.

If it meant that Padme had no opportunity to speak to him either, then be it so.

On the way to his rooms he passed Anakin’s door. His step didn’t falter, but the urge to duck inside and check whether his possessions still were there was ever present. They were there yesterday. Obi-Wan felt a very un-Jedi like need to take these things and preserve them. Somehow, he managed to push it aside.

Once inside his quarters, door locked and his comms turned off, he let himself face the glaring evidence of his failure to let go Anakin entirely.

It was hidden under his cot. A small, wooden box, entirely unassuming. Once, it contained a small memento, a token of gratitude from people he helped on a mission. Now, carefully wrapped in cloth, Anakin’s lightsaber rested inside.

It was supposed to burn with the body of its owner. Obi-Wan fervently hoped his apprentice would forgive this small blasphemy. Now, when he was a part of the Force, hopefully he wouldn’t care the lightsaber placed on the pyre was an older design.

No one seemed to notice the difference when Obi-Wan produced the unfinished weapon.

He shouldn’t hold on, but Obi-Wan tried to convince himself it would give him some sort of closure. At the end, he couldn’t feel anything. There was no goodbye. Not even a painful severing of their connection driving the reality of the situation home. Just sudden emptiness, which then went on and on and would remain until Obi-Wan himself joined the Force.

Surely, of all people, his Padawan would have understood his shameful weakness, this need to keep the last part of him close. At least for some time.

The kyber crystal inside Anakin’s lightsaber hummed with the echo of its owner.

Obi-Wan tried to convince himself one day he’ll be ready to let it go.

**Author's Note:**

> This story came to me one night. I was lying in bed and I asked myself: how would Obi-Wan feel if Anakin was killed during the Clone Wars? No betrayals, no falls to Dark Side, no heroics, just a sensless wartime death (not unlike one Obi-Wan himself fakes).
> 
> I tried to just feel it. Then I sat down and wrote this.
> 
> Tell me what you think. English is not my first language, so constructive criticism regarding my grammar/spelling is welcome.


End file.
